Lack Of Communication
by Star7
Summary: Senru waffle. Rukawa POV. One-Shot. A response to Orangeorlemons's fic "Maybe".


**Lack of Communication**

By Star

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OoooH a challenge!

This is a response to orangleorlemons's Sendoh POV ficlet 'Maybe'.

It is a Senru (Rukawa POV) waffle ficlet.

In contrast to her I always seem to make my Sendoh character paper thin while Rukawa is full of emotion/history/trauma/stuff. This is probably because Rukawa is my favourite character and Sendoh is just a convenient seme for him hah! *cough* anyway… here goes nothing…

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Approaching the court is like walking into a circus ring with that ridiculous ringmaster standing there grinning like a madman. He reminds me so much of a circus conductor, the way he controls everything, the way he is the _centre_ of everything, but at the same time the way he carries himself with a jubilance so artificial it makes me… sad. Sometimes I wonder what he thinks is the purpose of it: that incessant smile. Is he mocking me? Is he treating me like a child – someone who needs continual smiles and reassurances? Or is it he who needs those things? Is his smile somehow a projection back onto himself of the things that he lacks in his life? Does he have family, friends, a world? A world which surrounds him and which I… for reasons I cannot begin to explain… want to know more about? I should ask him but, as usual, my lips find it impossible to form words. It is enough that I am able to approach him. Be near him. For now, anyway.

He tosses something away from him as he sees me arriving. My eyes follow it as it flutters to the floor to remain discarded by his gym bag. He doesn't pay it any attention. It appears to be a piece of paper. It must be something insignificant, but for some reason my curiosity is piqued. As I approach him my eyes are continually drawn back to that object of interest, perhaps just as an excuse to look away from that irritating smile he is still wearing. Was he writing something?

I finally reach him, standing directly beside him; close enough to see a bead of sweat which has already gathered at his temple from the summer heat. His smile has made his eyes crease and the drop is blocked by the lines that have appeared at the edges of his eyes. If he were to relax his face that little jewel of water would be able to trickle down his cheek. For some reason that irritates me too. He shouldn't hold it back like that. He should… let it go. Of course it is irrational of me. He doesn't even know that it is there, and it is hardly a significant thing. But as for me… I can see it struggling. I can't explain why but I suddenly reach forwards, compulsively, reaching for that small liquid gem, that tiny meaningless thing, wanting somehow to help it reach its destination; help it to move. It is only a bead of sweat but for some mad reason it suddenly seems very important to me.

As I reach for his cheek some kind of miracle happens. His smile dissolves before I can even touch him, and the little drop goes on its way. I watch it as it races down the side of his face, disappearing for a moment under his chin line, and finally I see it fall easily, sparkling, to land in a fragmented burst of crystal light next to that mysterious paper.

Internally pleased, I look up into that familiar face. Familiar and yet suddenly so changed. That smile that annoys me so much is gone and replacing it is a look of surprise. I wonder what that look is about for a moment before remembering… ah yes… I reached out towards him. That's what must have surprised him so much to make that expression appear. In fact, I realise with a sudden jolt, my arm is still outstretched. In response to that realisation I begin to retract it, bring that stray hand back next to the warmth and safety of my body, but he quickly takes a hold of my hand. He is still not smiling but neither is he surprised. Now he looks oddly serious. Neither of us say anything. Neither of us can. There is no language that we can both speak.

We do not understand one another. Of course we exchange simple words – perhaps "hello" and an arrangement for our next meeting "seven tomorrow" – but what do those things mean but nothing at all. Each day our only real communication is that false smile from him, a determined silence from me, and now today this new thing – a clasped hand. This is the sum of our true interactions.

His cheeks flush curiously red and he lets my hand go free as suddenly as when he seized it. I wonder about what it means. Was he seized by a compulsion similar to the one I experienced just a moment ago? What did my impulse mean? What did his mean? I cannot decipher it. I must look puzzled.

Faced with this conundrum another odd impulse grasps me and I move my limbs, hesitantly at first, but finally with some determination. I crouch and pick up that curious piece of paper. It is crumpled into a rough ball. I cannot help but feel that somehow it might be a key. If he was writing something perhaps it will be a glimpse into his mind. Perhaps it will help me to understand him. To understand myself. He does not move to stop me; his face is still a little flushed.

With my two hands I smooth out the crumpled message, hoping to find a secret, hoping to understand. I see what I secretly knew I would see.

The paper is blank.

I look up at him again and only experience the same quiet emotions as always. It feels like I am reaching across time and space for something that isn't even there. Something so thoroughly beyond my understanding that it is in vain even to look towards it. The paper only proves what I already know: there is no language for us to share. No method for us to communicate. His smile. My silence. A clasped hand and a flushed cheek. A reaching out to touch a face. The sound of a ball bouncing regularly against concrete. That is the sum of everything.

And I am not content.

I hope perhaps one day we will be able to bypass this… lack of communication.

**End.**

Erm okay… I rushed this out this evening and as I went a whole BUNCH of ideas came into my head! That's why it's all a bit fragmented. I was going with the 1) "Rukawa is irritated by Sendoh's smile" line, but got hijacked by 2) "the letter" and then thought about 3) "reach out and touch!" and then finally the idea of 4) "can't communicate" which I then ran with until the end of the fic haha.

Anyway, I apologise for this heap of rubbish and I hope you are not offended by it!

Thanks to orangesorlemons for the inspiration/challenge 


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